


I Howl for You

by SheilaWolfe



Category: Sterek - Fandom, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: M/M, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-20 17:39:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheilaWolfe/pseuds/SheilaWolfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pack takes a trip to the Hales' family cabin and Stiles gets dragged along. As he and Derek spend more time together, hidden feels start to make themselves known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Are we there yet?” Stiles grumbled to no one in particular. Just ahead of him, Lydia’s car flashed its blinker and branched off onto yet another dirt road, following Derek’s black Camaro further into the middle of nowhere. With a sigh, Stiles turned his jeep after them, wishing for a normal asphalt road with every rough bump and bounce.

Suddenly, his cell rang, the first noise Stiles had heard, other than himself, since the radio lost signal two hours ago. He managed to fish the phone from his pocket without swerving into the trees and glanced at the name before answering.

“Scott, what’s the deal? Where’s the sourwolf leading us?”

“No idea. Derek just called our car saying we’re almost there. Just passing the message down.”

“Good to know I’m being kept in the loop,” Stiles grumbled. He could just make out the sounds of Allison, Jackson, and Lydia chatting in the background. A particularly large bump in the road resulted in Stiles’ head colliding with the roof of his jeep.

Through the phone, Scott heard the long and very profane string of curses that followed. “Uh you okay back there?”

“Oh I’m just fine; the luggage keeps excellent company!” Stiles cheered sarcastically, glancing at the suitcases and duffle bags stuffed in the backseat of his jeep.

With the whole ‘Jackson is a kanima set on killing us’ incident over with and the future threat of an alpha pack coming to town, their own pack was in need of a little R&R and some bonding time with their newest members. A few days after school let out, Derek suggested a trip to one of his family’s old cabins. Stiles didn’t think the invitation was extended to him but, thanks to Scott claiming him to be part of the pack, the normal boy had been roped into summer camp for werewolves.

Just another day in the life of Stiles Stilinski.

To make matters worse, Stiles was stuck _alone_ in his jeep with everyone else’s luggage. Isaac, Erica, and Boyd were riding with Derek while Scott, Allison, and Jackson were stuffed in Lydia’s car. There wasn’t much room left for their bags so Stiles had graciously offered to load it into his own passenger-less jeep; aka, he knew no one would volunteer to ride with him so he might as well make himself look useful.

Scott’s sigh through the phone caught his attention. “Come on, Stiles. Don’t be like that. It’s just the ride up. We should be there in about five minutes.”

“Yeah well don’t expect me to carry your bags inside. I’m no bell boy,” Stilinski huffed.

“Come on, dude, this is supposed to be fun! We deserve a vacation!”

“Yeah well I feel like the ninth wheel in this little werewolf pack-bonding powwow.”

“You’re pack too,” Scott insisted even if it was utter bullshit. Stiles openly laughed at the serious tone his friend was using.

“Yeah right I’m sure Derek’s thrilled to have the puny human tagging along.”

“Allison and Lydia are human too,” Scott pointed out.

Stiles leaned forward, trying to make out a shape hidden behind the trees through his dirty windshield. It looked vaguely house shaped but he didn’t want to get his hopes up. “Technically Lydia was bitten even if she didn’t turn and Allison is a werewolf hunter; she’s scarier than most of you guys. I, on the other hand, am only good for shuttling the luggage.”

Scott gave an exasperated sigh through the phone. “Stiles, you may not be a fighter but you’re still an important member. You’re always there to help when there’s trouble.”

“And to get slammed into walls,” he grumbled too quietly for even Scott’s werewolf hearing to catch.

“What about balls?”

“Never mind,” Stiles snapped, hitting the brakes before his jeep could hit the back of Lydia’s suddenly stopped car.

“I think we’re here.” Stiles rolled his eyes at Scott’s assumption. They might have been friends but Stiles would be the first to admit that Scott wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box.

“I see that.” An awkward silence followed before Stiles added, “I’m hanging up now.”

Everyone piled out of the three cars, stretching their cramped muscles as they moved forward to crowd around Derek’s Camaro. Leaving his jeep at the end of the driveway, Stiles weaved his way through the group to stand next to Scott and see if their long drive was worth it.

“Wooow!” the pack breathed at once as they surveyed the scene. Nestled between the towering pine trees was a cozy little cabin escaped from a brochure. It was two stories tall and painted a sky blue with white trim. It looked picture perfect, if not a little old, and way too normal for a werewolf vacation home.

When Derek noticed the stares directed at him, he raised his dark eyebrows and shrugged. “My mom liked to come out here during the summer. She did most of the decorating. How about a tour?”

He led the way down the cobblestone path and up the steps of the white wooden porch. While Derek dug the key out of his pocket, Stiles inched away to glance around the side of the house. From what he could see, it joined with a deck in the back that held what looked a lot like a pool and fire-pit. Before he could explore further, a loudly cleared throat made him jump and spin around.

From across the now empty porch, Derek was watching him, his arms crossed and his gray-green eyes staring at him questioningly. “You coming in?” the older man asked, nodding towards the door where everyone else had crowded inside. Blushing with embarrassment, Stiles gave a quick nod and marched past the intimidating werewolf to join the group indoors.

The inside of the cabin was even more surprising than the outside had been. To the left was a large kitchen with a bright yellow cabinets and lacey curtains. A curious peek in the pantry proved it to be fully stocked and ready for a werewolf feeding frenzy. On the right, the living room was set up with comfy couches and chairs around a large TV. Across the room, a sliding glass door proved Stiles’ right; there was definitely a pimped out deck in the back.

Derek gestured to a small staircase near the kitchen door. “There are three rooms upstairs and another down here,” he pointed to a subtle door tucked not far behind the loveseat. “I don’t care who sleeps where just don’t fight over rooms and couples had better keep it down.” 

Each of the couples in turn ranged from embarrassed to oblivious innocence. Isaac, one of the few in the group to be single, was quick to pick his spot. “Dibs on the couch!”

That triggered the rest to rush for the stairs and claim a room. Lydia and Jackson made it to the largest room at the end of the hall with Scott and Allison next door. There was a quick conversation that suggested the girls share a room instead of with the boys but Lydia insisted that the current arrangement would be best since they would probably end up switching around anyways. Besides, the idea of Scott and Jackson having to share a room was enough to make a saint cringe. Erica and Boyd discreetly claimed the room closest to the stairs as their own, leaving only Stiles, Derek, and the room on the ground floor.

Stiles mentally groaned but said nothing. Maybe if he didn’t mention it the awkward situation would just go away; denial was one of the teen’s few talents. That and sarcasm.

“Guess I’ll sleep on the roof,” he offered weakly. The werewolves left in the room rolled their eyes but offered no comment. With the awkward filling the room, Stiles then decided on a retreat. “Why don’t I just go get the bags?”

“Good idea, Stilinski,” Jackson sneered from the stairs, the rest of the pack following him down now that the boarding situation was settled. “Just go ahead and put my bags in my room.”

He shoved his way past the smaller teen, nearly knocking Stiles over in the process, and went to have a seat on the couch. His rest was short lived, though, when a strong hand yanked him up by the arm and spun him towards the door.

“How about _you_ bring the bags in,” Derek ordered, nodding towards the door. Jackson looked like he wanted to argue but his resolve crumbled under the alpha’s stern gaze. With a pointed huff in Stiles’ direction, Jackson turned and went to obey Derek’s orders.

Stiles, meanwhile, was still trying to figure out what just happened. It was the first time he could remember that Derek had ever stuck up for him. Usually he was the one picking on Stiles, slamming him into walls and what not. After a moment of stunned silence, Stiles finally found his voice and promptly blurted out. “I’m going to check out the room.”

The outburst earned him odd looks but he was too busy crossing the den to care. He barely paused at the door before swinging it open and hurtling head first into the dark. He backed up and flailed his hand against the wall until it hit the light switch. Soft light illuminated the room, revealing a relieving sight for Stiles’ frazzled nerves.

“Here,” Derek suddenly voiced from the door way, tossing Stiles’ duffle bag on the floor. “Hurry up and unpack, everyone wants to go swimming.”

When he saw Stiles silently staring at the room, he glanced around curiously. “What?”

“There are two beds,” Stiles whispered before bursting into laughing. “You didn’t say there were two beds!”

Sure enough, instead of the one bed Stiles’ awkward, and slightly perverted mind, had imagined, two twin beds had been made up and pushed to either ends of the room. It was a welcoming sight even if a small part of Stiles was almost disappointed.

Derek only raised his eyebrows at Stiles’ discovery. “Well yeah there are two beds. What exactly were you expecting?”

The question froze Stiles. What had he been expecting? He glanced at Derek, unsure what to say. The older man didn’t say anything, just continued to stare at him with that infuriatingly blank face. There was no telling what he was thinking.

“It wasn’t…I didn’t…” Stiles stuttered, feeling his face grow hot from embarrassment. Derek only smirked at his discomfort.

“Oh just never mind!” he finally shouted, stomping past Derek to head for the deck.

Not even an hour in and Stiles was already regretting this vacation.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles wasn’t alone on the deck for long. Minutes later, most of the pack was gathered outside, freshly changed into swimsuits and dying to check out the pool. 

It was large, reaching ten feet at the deep end, and surprisingly clean for its lack of use. The water sparkled crystal and blue in the hot sun, promising a cool escape from the heat. 

“Last one in is a rotten egg!” Jackson bellowed as he dove in. Isaac and Erica weren’t far behind. Lydia only rolled her eyes before claiming a lounge chair to soak up some sun. Still in his clothes, Stiles settle for an available seat nearby, purposefully trying not to stare at the strawberry-blonde in a bikini.

“You getting in?” Scott appeared beside him with Allison in tow, all smiles and obliviousness.

Stiles shook his head. “Maybe later. The water looks kinda cold right now.”

Allison looked apprehensively at the pool. “He’s right, you know. It does look kind of cold.”

“Only one way to find out!” Scott laughed as he suddenly picked his girlfriend up and sent both of them flying into the water. Stiles sighed; he really shouldn’t be surprised. Whenever Allison was around, Scott’s attention span was similar to an excited puppy. It was almost sad at times.  
He watched Scott swim towards the shallows, Allison right behind him swearing vengeance, when Derek and Boyd suddenly appeared to join the party. They were carrying what looked like a volleyball and net that the others immediately volunteered to help setup. 

The teams were quickly split up; Derek, Isaac, and Boyd against Scott, Allison, Jackson, and Erica. Jackson tried to coax Lydia into the game but she only waved him off, claiming herself referee. 

“What about you, Stiles?” Erica asked but Jackson laughed at the offer.

“Good idea! Stilinski can help the other team lose!” Stiles frowned but didn’t answer. He had put up with Jackson’s arrogance for years, no reason to start listening to him now.

The game commenced, the winners being the first to reach fifteen points. Stiles watched the ball sail over the net back and forth over and over. Jackson’s team had more players but they were clearly outmatched against the combined might of Derek, Isaac, and Boyd. Soon, the ball flew just out of Erica’s reach and the other team was awarded their winning point. 

“Good game, everyone,” Stiles half cheered as he stood to go inside. It was hot and he needed a drink if he was just going to continue playing spectator for his friends. 

“Hey Stilinski! Think fast!” 

Stiles turned but too slow. The launched volleyball suddenly clipped his shoulder and sent him off balance. Air whooshed out his lungs as his shoulder collided harshly against the pool’s concrete edge followed immediately by the side of his head. His vision exploded in white stars before he vaguely registered his body slipping into the water. 

He wasn’t entirely sure what happened afterwards; the blow had left him dazed and confused. 

The first thing Stiles noticed was how uncomfortably quiet it was. No laughing or talking, no playful splashing, no birds or wind whistling through the trees. Just eerie and deafening silence.

Then he registered the cold followed by the suddenly realization that he was sinking further from the surface. Before he could get his already uncoordinated arms and legs working in a swimming motion, he bumped the bottom of the pool.

The gentle impact was enough to knock the last wisp of air from his body, leaving his lungs starving for more. He gasped desperately, trying to ease the burn but deadly water quickly clogged his nose and throat. Panic set in, clutching Stiles chest tightly as more water invaded against his will. Slowly, his movements grew sluggish and his thoughts faded as lack of oxygen slowed his brain. 

Then it didn’t matter. He was content to lie at the bottom of the pool, watching the sunlight dance across the surface far above him. It was peaceful and quiet and he frankly didn’t care that he was dying.

So this is what drowning is like…

Darkness crept along the edges of his conscious, pulling him further and further away from thought. The last thing Stiles remembered was a large shape diving through the water towards him just before his world went black. 

Then something strong hooked under his arms and hoisted him up. Seconds later, his head broke the surface and the peace and quiet was replaced with frantic shouting.

“Is he breathing!?”

“Get him out of the water!” 

“Grab his arm! Be gentle!”

“Really, Jackson?! Why would you do that! What were you thinking!?”

“Stiles! Stiles, can you hear me!”

Stiles heard them shouting and felt hands pulling him out of the pool and onto solid ground but he couldn’t respond. He couldn’t even distinguish whose voice belonged to whom. It all sounded distant and garbled, like a bad TV reception. 

Gentle hands probed at his neck and face. “He has a pulse but he’s not breathing,” a deep voice reported from above. “Come on, Stiles. You need to breathe for me.”

He was pulled into a sitting position and leaned against something firm and strong. Suddenly there was a painful jab between his shoulder blades. It hit two more times before Stiles brown eyes shot open. He coughed once and promptly doubled over, hacked up the water that was still in his lungs. A hand on his back rubbed soothing circles as he greedily gulped down air and blinked stinging tears from his eyes. 

When he was finished, Stiles looked up to see the pack surrounding him. Scott was crouched just to the side, looking pale and shaken, a teary Allison clutching his arm. Over Scott’s shoulder, Erica, Boyd, and Isaac were gathered, not as visibly upset but still watching with concern. Further behind the others, Lydia was wide eyed and ridged as a board next to Jackson who had the decency to look a bit contrite. 

“Stiles?” a voice right next to Stiles ears startled him. The boy jumped and turned sharply, immediately regretting it when a pang shot through his temples. Way closer than expected was Derek, dripping wet and shirtless. Stiles instantly blushed red and tried to put some personal space between them but the arm against his chest kept him in place.

“Stay still,” Derek ordered, his green eyes flashing a warning red. Stiles instantly froze, letting the wolf’s gentle hands lay him down on the concrete. “You may have a concussion. Is your vision blurry or unfocused?” 

“Nope, twenty twenty crystal clear,” Stiles answered, trying to look anywhere other than Derek’s very distracting upper body. “Can I get up?”

“No. Do you know where you are?” 

Stiles rolled his eyes and groaned. “You sound like my dad in an interrogation.”

“Just answer the question,” Derek growled, his dark eyebrows knitting in annoyance.

“Your family cabin in the middle of freaking nowhere. It’s nice and all but dude, seriously? Five hours is way too long to drive-”

“Stiles! I really need you to focus right now!” The boy quickly shut his mouth and waiting for the next round of questions.

“When’s your birthday?”

“Once every year.” Stiles thought it was funny but the irritated frown he received from the alpha told him otherwise. 

“Well at least his sarcasm is still intact,” Jackson muttered from the background. The rest of the pack turned and zeroed in with icy glares. The jock sheepishly slurred a, “Sorry,” before inching further from the circle.

Derek turned back to Stiles and asked again. “Birthday?”

“April eighth. Can I get up now?”

The wolf nodded and leaned back, giving Stiles enough space to sit up slowly. Free to move, he raised a hand to gently probe him throbbing temple. He winced when the touch sent another jolt of pain through his head. It wasn’t bleeding but it was definitely tender. Ice and painkillers were going to be his best friends for the next few hours.

“You think you can stand?” Stiles nodded but his legs shook treacherously as he struggled to get off the ground. Derek gently took his arm and helped him into a standing position, only releasing his hold when he was sure Stiles wasn’t going to topple over. All the while, Stiles’ face was burning red from its embarrassing close encounter with Derek’s shirtless and very muscular chest. The wolf in question, though, didn’t seem to notice.

“Scott,” Derek ordered, nodding his head towards Stiles. The beta was quick to obey, rushing to his friend’s side as Allison followed like a shadow.

“I gotcha,” Scott whispered, his voice sounded strained as he draped a towel around Stiles shivering frame. He pulled one of Stiles’ arms over his shoulders and led him away as Allison went ahead to open the patio doors. Just before Scott pulled him inside, Stiles managed a backwards glance at the unmoving pack. 

All glowing eyes, plus Lydia’s normal brown ones, were on a clearly uncomfortable Jackson. His girlfriend looked close to a full on hissy fit. The three betas were ridged and cold as they glared at their fellow pack member. But out of all of them, Derek seemed the most hostile.   
Even from across the deck, Stiles could feel fury radiating off the alpha. His eyes were bright red and his teeth were long and bared as he snarled some too quiet and far away for Stiles to hear. The sight of Jackson slumping in submission was the last thing Stiles saw before Allison ushered him and Scott through the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Scott and Allison led Stiles to the kitchen, dripping puddles of water across the floor, where they immediately started fussing over him like worried parents. The boy was ushered onto one of the barstools while Allison got him an icepack and Scott starting looking for some requested Tylenol. As soon as the pills were handed over, Stiles popped them in his mouth and washed them down with ice water.

“You sure you’re feeling okay?” Allison asked, handing him the bag of ice. Stiles nodded and winced as the pack touched the bruise but the cold quickly numbed the pain.

“I’m fine. If I got seriously hurt every time I fell down, I would have been dead long ago.”

Scott didn’t look convinced and continued to brood across the counter until his friend waved his hands frantically.

“Helloooo? Earth to Scott! Would you quit with the ‘serious face’? I’m fine! It was just a normal freak accident for me.”

“It was Jackson’s fault,” Scott objected coldly. “He should have known better. You could have gotten seriously hurt. What if Derek hadn’t got you out in time?”

Stiles nearly choked on his water, an uncomfortable reminder of his episode only moments ago. “Derek was the one who got me out?”

“Yeah, he swam over when we saw you weren’t coming up.”

“He’s also the one that got you breathing again,” Allison added.

“Oh god,” Stiles groaned, hiding his red face behind his hands. “He didn’t do mouth to mouth on me, did he?”

Scott and Allison exchanged a look before his friend finally answered, “No, just gave you a few smacks on the back and you coughed everything up.”

Stiles sighed, a twinge of disappointment sparking in his chest where there should have been relief. Maybe he hit his head harder than he thought.

“He’s pretty ticked about the whole thing,” Scott continued. “He’s chewing Jackson out right now. Though, to be fair, Lydia’s getting her fair share in too.”

“What are they saying?” Stiles asked before he thought about it. He was sure he already knew the answer.

Scott tipped his head to the side, looking even more like a confused puppy than usual, and listened in on the conversation out on the patio.  
“Basically what I just said. That Jackson is stupid and should have known better and that you’re not as strong as we are and he needs to be more careful.”

“Aka ‘Stiles is a weak little human, you break it you buy it’.” Stiles sighed and hopped off the stool. He hated being right all the time.

“No you’re not weak,” Allison argued, quickly picking up on his sour mood. “It’s just that you’re not a werewolf and Jackson needs to understand that humans aren’t as durable as werewolves.”

Stiles shook his head irritably. “You’re human! So is Lydia! And next to you two, I’m like a useless China doll! Just some breakable thing that everyone has to go out of their way to be gentle around!” With his insecurity rant out of the way, Stiles turned and stormed out of the kitchen. More and more, he was really regretting this vacation.

He marched into his shared room, giving the door a loud slam he was sure the pack outside would hear if they weren’t already eavesdropping. Stripping off his wet clothes, Stiles wrapped himself in his towel and sat stubbornly on his bed to fuming, nursing the bag of ice against his head.

It wasn’t long before the sounds of the pack raiding the kitchen reached his ears. His stomach growled, urging him to join them for dinner but stubbornness won out over hunger. There were too many human-breaking werewolves and he didn’t want to fall into the oven or something.

And so he sat on his bed and stared at the blank, uninteresting wall. An article Stiles remembered reading on concussions advised against sleeping at least three hours after a head injury so an early turn in was out. He tried to find ways to entertain himself but the few books he brought made his headache worse and his phone was next to useless without reception.

Time passed slowly, even slower than at school which Stiles was almost sure was impossible. Eventually, he decided to kill some time and get a much needed shower. Snagging the sweats and t-shirt he was using for pajamas, usually he was more of a boxers only kinda guy but sharing a room was going to be awkward enough without a lack of modesty, and slouched to the bathroom branching off the guest room.

It was small but not quite cramped with two sinks and a walk-in shower tucked in the back. There were two doors to the side that, upon further investigation, revealed a closed-off toilet area and linen closet. Stiles instantly discarded his chlorine soaked towel in favor of a fresh one. It was fluffy and smelled warm and clean. If he didn’t know any better, he would have assumed it was straight out of the dryer.

Setting the towel with his dry clothes, Stiles wrestled with the shower nobs, finding a temperature right between Antarctica and the Fires of Mordor. Satisfied, he jumped into the water to rinse off.

It didn’t seem like a bad idea at first but every time the water hit his face, Stiles had a quick flash of the pool. Of the eerie silence. Of the crushing weight of the water as he sunk further and further down.

Stiles felt the panic attack seconds before it hit, constricting his chest and kicking his heart rate into double time. He fumbled with the shower until the water stopped and stumbled his way onto the bathroom floor. Grabbing the clean towel, he wrapped himself up and crawled to the corner as he struggled to breathe.

_Calm down, Stiles. Everything’s fine now. You just need to calm down…_

He managed to pull himself together enough to dry off and stand up but the pressure on his chest refused to go away. Gripping the edge of the sink, he watched his reflection as he forced himself to breathe deep and evenly.

What he saw wasn’t very impressive; an awkward teenager with pale skin and scrawny muscles that never knew when to shut his mouth. His light brown eyes were wide and ringed with dark, tired circles. The buzzed looked Stiles usually kept had grown out, leaving a full head of brown hair that was currently dripping water down his washed out face.

Stiles stared at himself in the mirror, his breathing almost under control and his heart rate slowing, when a sudden banging on the door broke his concentration.

“Stiles!” The shout made Stiles heart jump in his throat. It was Derek.

And he did not sound happy.

“Just a second!” the boy choked out, quickly grabbing his clothes and tugging them on.

Another violent volley of knocks disapproved of his answer. “Stiles, open the door!”

“Okay okay!” he yielded when he was decent. Standing just outside of the bathroom, Derek looked like a disturbing mix of panicked and angry. His green eyes were wide and tense, just starting to verge onto red.

“What!? What is it!?” Stiles scanned the room, expecting some sort of attack or natural disaster but nothing seemed out of sorts. Well other than the werewolf trying to break down the bathroom door. “What’s the big deal? Where’s the fire?!”

“Are you okay?” Derek asked, sounding oddly concerned like he had expected to find Stiles dying on the floor. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean ‘What’s wrong?’? You’re the one who was shouting and trying to break down the door!”

Derek looked genuinely confused as he scanned Stiles up and down before shaking his head. “But… but I thought…I heard…”

“You heard what?” Stiles snapped. Derek put on his best ‘patience wearing thin’ expression. Without breaking eye contact, the wolf grabbed around Stiles’ wrist gently and pressed his fingers against his pulse point.

“Your heartbeat.”

As if on cue, Stiles’ heart skipped a beat at the words. Derek raised his eyebrows at the sound but Stiles didn’t notice.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” the boy whispered, studying the line where the bathroom tiles crashed against the bedroom carpet.

“Stiles if there’s something-”

“Don’t.” Stiles cut in sharply, twisting his wrist out of Derek’s grasp. “Just don’t.”

It suddenly felt crowded in the small bathroom and Stiles brushed past Derek into the larger room to get some air. The wolf took the hint and let him pass; Stiles knew Derek could have easily stopped him if he wanted. Crossing over to his chosen bed, Stiles sat and stared at the floor.

“Did you want something to eat?” Derek offered after a heavy silence.

Stiles shook his head. “I’m not hungry. I’m going to bed.”

Derek looked like he wanted to argue but Stiles cut him off. “It’s been over three hours so I doubt I have a concussion.” Before any other arguing could be done, the boy dove under the covers and turned away from Derek. “Good night.”

He never heard a sound but when Stiles glanced back, Derek was gone. Settling back into the warm blankets with a gloomy sigh, he closed his eyes and let sleep carry him away from the madness that was his life.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Stiles awoke to hunger pains in his stomach. He tried to ignore them, but after a few minutes of restless tossing and turning, he finally gave up and opened his eyes. Even without a clock, he could tell it was way too early to be up. The faint gray light outside the window hinted at the approaching dawn but the room itself was still dark. 

Across the room, shadows hid the other bed from view. Stiles considered checking to see if Derek was still sleeping but quickly decided against the death wish. Instead, he tiptoed across the room and slipped out the door as quietly as possible.

In the living room, he found Isaac stretched across the couch and snoring loud enough to put Scott to shame. Stiles silently snuck into the kitchen and took inventory on what there was to eat. Out of the breakfast food, a granola bar seemed the simplest, and quietest, selection. He poured a glass of orange juice and munched on his meal, deciding on what he should do next.

Everyone would be asleep for another few hours so whatever he did would have to be quiet. It wasn’t so easy, though, when everyone else was a werewolf with superhearing. Stiles was genuinely surprised he hadn’t woken anyone up yet.

Outside the patio doors, thick fog was swirling through the trees and scattering what little light there was into a hazy gray. Sliding the doors open, Stiles took a hesitant step onto the deck. It was cool but not quite cold. Perfect jogging weather. 

Finishing off the last of his breakfast, he bravely ventured back to the guest room, staying just long enough to grab his shoes and red hoodie before retreating. He refused to even glance across the room.

Out on the deck where there was less of a threat to wake sleeping wolves, Stiles tied his sneakers and tugged the jacket on. He followed the patio stairs down to where a worn walking path snaked its way through the tress. Tugging his hood up, Stiles started a brisk pace and followed the trail, leaving the house behind.

He didn’t go far; the last thing he needed to do was get lost in the woods. He jogged for maybe a good mile or so before finally stopping.

That’s when he noticed the uncomfortable silence. He listened but the only noises he could hear were his own panted breaths echoing off the trees. It was odd and unnerving. Sure it was early but he expected at least some birds or something to be making noise.

Suddenly, a deafening snap echoed in the woods to Stiles’ right. He jumped and spun around but all he could see were the trees silhouetted in the fog. Another snap behind him made him spin again, fear starting to set in when he still saw nothing. 

“Hello?” he called tentatively, fear strangling his voice as he circled slowly, trying to distinguish shapes in the fog.

Tree, rock, tree, bush, tree, tree, bush, rock, tree, tree, Derek, tree, rock…

Wait.

Derek was suddenly leaning against a nearby tree, arms crossed and green eyes watching Stiles with what appeared to be a mix of questioning accusation and amusement.

“Holy shit!” Stiles cursed as he stumbled back in fright, clutching at his abused heart. Forget homicidal lizards or killer alphas, his death would probably be from one of the many jump scares caused by teleporting werewolves. 

“Could you not play ‘Give the Human a Heart Attack’?” he gasped, catching his balance on a nearby pine. “Seriously, there are easier ways to kill me!”

Derek only raised one of his dark eyebrows at the accusation before finally speaking. “You really shouldn’t wander off alone.”

Stiles stared blankly at him for a moment, unsure if there was concern hidden in the suggestion or some sort of threat. Quickly finding his voice again, he managed to splutter out, “Ha-have you been following me this whole time?!” 

“Not the whole time.” Pushing off the tree, he took slow steps forward, never breaking eye contact as he continued. “I sensed when you were gone. It didn’t take me long to track your scent and catch up.”

“And why would you do that?” Stiles asked uneasily. Derek was staring at him as he stalked closer, like a predator on the hunt. The idea rooted the boy to the spot, afraid to even twitch. 

Brown eyes traced the muscles rippling under the thin material of Derek’s t-shirt. Stiles subconsciously wet his lips, blushing furiously when he saw Derek’s eyes follow the movement, and glanced down at the ground before his imagination could take over.

The wolf stopped just in front of him to answer the question Stiles had almost forgotten he had asked. “That’s what an alpha does. He looks out for his pack.”

Stiles jerked his head up to gape in shock. There was no way he was having this conversation with Derek. Sure, Scott might consider him pack but Derek? The guy barely put up with him as an acquaintance! Yet here he was, showing concern in his own creepy stalker-ish way.

“Even me?” the younger male chuckled, a bit of hysteria slipping into the sound as he took a step back. “The weak, hyperactive human that you can’t stand?”

This cannot be the same Derek Hale.

Stiles suddenly found that his personal space wasn’t so personal anymore. In a blur, Derek’s hands were fisted in the front of his hoodie and Stiles’ back was roughly shoved against a tree. 

Okay, maybe it was the same Derek…

Derek’s face hovered just inches from his own, his gray-green eyes hard and face set in its usual stony expression. 

“Especially you, Stiles,” the wolf growled just loud enough for the boy to hear. “You’re pack and I will to protect you.”

The boy’s brain ground to a halt. He tried to form words but his mouth just moved soundlessly before snapping closed with an audible click. As he attempted to restart his train of thought, Derek loosened the killer grip on his hoodie but didn’t quite let go.

“You know, the hood does seem fitting,” Derek commented, quirking a corner of his mouth up in what was probably the closest thing to a smile Stiles had ever seen. 

It took a moment for Stiles to understand the irony. Glancing down at his jacket, he giggled nervously. “Yeah, I guess I am kinda like Red Riding Hood, huh?”

“That depends.” The wolf suddenly turned more predatory as he crowded even closer into Stiles space, eyes subtly flashing red. “Are you afraid of the big bad wolf?”

Through his clothes, the boy could feel the heat of Derek’s body pressed up against his. Stiles’ heart started pounding fast and loud in his ears. Desire shot through his body, pooling deep in his belly as he bit back a whimper. He was liking this waaaay too much. For an embarrassing moment, he remembered that Derek could probably smell his arousal and his face burned.

When he glanced at the werewolf to see if his hormones were going to sign his death warrant, Stiles was shocked to find Derek’s intense gaze staring at him strangely. If Stiles had to put a word to the expression, it would have to be hungry.

That thought mixed with the Red Riding Hood remark and Stiles’ currently Adderall-less state resulted in him thoughtlessly blurting out, “You’re not going to eat my grandma, are you?”

As soon as it was said, Stiles wanted to sink into the ground and never come out again. He mentally slapped himself as the mood died on its feet. Derek huffed and rolled his eyes, backing out of Stiles personal bubble. An awkward silence followed, neither sure what to say. Stiles looked everywhere but at Derek, his body still raging with hormones. 

“You should head back,” Derek finally spoke, his voice rough and deep. Stiles nodded mutely, pushing off the tree and shakily making his way to the path. When he glanced back, Derek was already gone, disappeared back into the woods. 

The sun was starting to come up, the fog melting away as warm rays of light bled through the trees. Birds were singing above as the forest woke up for a new day. The others would be up soon. 

Stiles glanced around, wondering if he was being watched by his unseen protector. He took a few calming breaths, ignoring the faint, musky smell of Derek still clinging to his jacket, and started a brisk jog all the way back to the house.

By the time he climbed the steps of the patio, the sun was shining brightly and he could hear the rest of the pack up and about. Through the glass, he could see them squabbling over something as they cooked breakfast. They all turned to look at him as he entered the house, waving sheepishly at them in greeting.

“There you are!” Allison smiled, turning away from the frying pan of eggs she was scrambling to wave a spatula at him. “Where have you been?”

“I went for a walk,” he quickly explained, gesturing spastically over his shoulder to the path that they probably couldn’t even see. “The woods are really nice. We should take a hike later or something.”

Scott nodded in understanding, walking over to throw an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “How’s the head?”

“It’s fine,” he shrugged. “Just had to sleep it off.”

“Did you want some break-” Scott suddenly cut off, turning towards Stiles to take a tentative sniff. His dark eyes widened as he jumped back. “Dude what the hell!? Why do you smell like Derek?!”

Stiles froze, dread clamping down on his heart. Around the kitchen, the other werewolves were staring, obviously now picking up on the curious scent. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Stiles decided to tell them what happened.

“I, uh, ran into Derek while I was out walking.” 

Well, some of what happened.

Scott narrowed his eyes. “Did you literally run into him? Your jacket reeks!”

His story was slipping. Time for Stiles to do what he did best.

“Oh yeah, we had a little hug therapy session,” he shrugged. “Talked about our feelings, made daisy chains, it was a great bonding experience. Too bad you guys missed it.” And that’s when everyone rolled their eyes and stopped listening. Perfect.

“You sure you’re okay?” Scott asked suspiciously, giving another snort.

“Dude, will you quit smelling me! I’m fine! Tell you what, I’ll go get a shower then we can go do whatever werewolves are supposed to do on vacation.” Before Scott could argue, Stiles had already sprinted for his room, relieved to find that Derek hadn’t come back yet and he was finally alone.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

After a quick shower, which thankfully didn’t end in another panic attack, and a fresh changed of clothes, Stiles reemerged to join the rest of the pack. They had all migrated to the living room and were in the middle of planning activities for the day. Derek had also returned and was watching his betas quietly from his seat between Isaac and Jackson.

The instant Stiles entered the room, the alpha’s green eyes were on him, watching with an unreadable expression. Stiles met his gaze and instantly flushed red, remembering the strange encounter in the woods. Down casting his eyes, he quickly sat next to Scott on the smaller couch and forced himself to focus on the conversation.

“If we wait to go on a hike around lunch time, we can make some sandwiches and have a picnic,” Allison was gushing excitedly from Scott’s other side.

“We’ll have to be back before it rains, though,” Isaac added, earning a few agreeing nods from the others.

Stiles glanced out the window skeptically. Now that the fog had cleared, it was all blue skies and sunshine. Not a cloud in sight.

“It’s supposed to rain?” he whispered to Scott even though just about everyone in the room could still hear him. All eyes turned to him and Stiles fleetingly wished he were a were-chameleon if it meant blending into the sofa.

On second thought, he’d end up looking something like kanima-Jackson.

“Doesn’t look like it, does it?” Erica suddenly laughed from the armchair she was sharing with Boyd. She gave him a knowing look and tapped her nose. “We can smell it. Right now it’s just the calm before the storm.”

Trying to cover up his embarrassment, Stiles chuckled along and put on his best reporter voice. “And that’s Erica with the weather report, back to you Scott!” Everyone rolled their eyes before continuing their original conversation.

“It’s still kinda early for lunch. Maybe we can get some lacrosse practice in before we leave.”

Jackson and Isaac eagerly agreed to Scott’s suggestion. Stiles, who was hoping to make the cut for the team this year, was especially keen on the idea. If he could practice with werewolves and come out in one piece, normal high-schoolers were going to be a cake walk.

“Great idea! Allison, Erica and I can use some girl time!” Lydia quickly hopped to her feet, gesturing for the other girls to follow. Allison gave Scott a quick peck on the cheek before joining the strawberry blonde. Erica, though, was hesitant.

“Actually, I think I’ll help Boyd make lunch.”

Lydia studied the blonde werewolf for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly. “Okay! We’ll be upstairs if you change your mind!” With Allison in tow, she quickly led the way to the large guestroom, leaving the others to their own devices.

With the meeting adjourned, everyone rose to their feet and split into groups. Erica and Boyd discreetly made their way to the kitchen to start lunch. Isaac volunteered to fetch the lacrosse sticks while Stiles and Scott started discussing practice ideas. Stiles wondered briefly where Jackson was before spotting the jock next to Derek across the room.

They were having some sort of silent argument from what he could see. And Jackson was losing. Derek’s eyes were in full alpha mode as he glared down at the younger male. The staring contest lasted a few seconds before Jackson downcast his eyes and gave a small nod. Like a dog with its tail tucked firmly between its legs, he shuffled away from Derek and towards the waiting group. Stiles almost expected him to be whining like a kicked puppy.

Just thinking of puppies seemed to make Isaac reappear, carrying armfuls of lacrosse equipment that he quickly passed out to the others. “Come on guys! Let’s go!”

Scott and Isaac led the way outside, scouting out a practice field near the side of the house. Stiles followed close behind, tugging on his gloves and testing the weight of his crosse. He hadn’t practiced since school let out.

_Hope I’m not too rusty…_

“Hey Stiles,” Jackson called, jogging to catch up just as he was descending the patio stairs. “Listen, about what happened yesterday. It was stupid and I didn’t mean for you to get hurt and I’m sorry.”

Stiles stared at him suspiciously. This was very un-Jackson like behavior. “Who are you and what have you done with Jackson Whittmore?”

“I’m serious, Stilinski,” the jock growled, a muscle twitching in his jaw. That seemed more like the Jackson Stiles knew and barely tolerated. “No hard feelings?”

“Yeah! Sure! No hard feelings!” Stiles agreed quickly if not a little skeptically. “Just enough of the touchy feely talk! Its kinda weirding me out.”

“No problem,” Jackson huffed, dodging past him to join Scott and Isaac on the field. Stiles jogged after him just as the teams were being split.

“Stiles you’re with me; we’re shirts,” Scott explained when Jackson and Isaac both stripped their upper clothes off. Both were ridiculously well-built and muscular. Heck, all of the werewolves were. The memory of Derek’s shirtless chest popped into his head and Stiles had to block the image before his imagination could get too involved.

_Stupid showoff werewolves with their stupid hot bodies…_

“Scott, I have a serious question to ask you.”

“What?” Scott glanced at his friend curiously.

“Are werewolves allergic to shirts or something?”

Scott rolled his eyes as he got in position for the first face off. He and Jackson battled for the ball before it was raked to the left and the game began.

It wasn’t an impressive, or very long, game. About halfway through, the werewolves started using their abilities, leaving Stiles in the dust. Scott managed on his own for a while but the shirts were down by two points by the time Erica shouted for them to come in.

The boys trudged in, depositing their dirty equipment by the door before tromping inside. They quickly went to change into some clean clothes and joined the others in the living room. Erica and Boyd had packed lunch into numerous backpacks that were being passed out amongst the group.

Stiles went to grab one but his hands had hardly touched the straps before the bag disappeared. He spun around, looking for the vanished pack, to find it already strapped onto Derek’s back. Stiles considered demanding it back but the hard look he got from the alpha left no room for argument.

“Come on, Stiles!” Scott appeared at his side, throwing an arm over his shoulder as he led his friend outside. “You going to lead the way? You’re the one who suggested the hike in the first place.”

Stiles shrugged. “I guess so. Over the river and through the woods.”

“No offence, Stiles, but I really don’t want to meet your grandmother,” Isaac quipped, everyone else chuckling along as they found the path.

“She might be a wolf in disguise, right Stiles?” Derek suddenly added. He gave Stiles a sly wink before taking lead of the group. Stiles openly gapped at the tease, turning bright red when he saw the others giving him questioning looks.

“What was that supposed to mean?” Scott asked, glancing between the two.

Stiles face burned even brighter. “Nothing!” He spluttered out, shoving his hands in his pockets and trying to ignore Derek’s quiet laugh from ahead.


	6. Chapter 6

The hike wasn’t very interesting. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the trees swayed in the gentle breeze. Just your average everyday stroll through the woods with the Beacon Hill werewolves. 

As they walked, the pack attempted to stay entertained by making small talk amongst themselves. Isaac, Erica, and Boyd were arguing over which of them was the fastest. Lydia kept up a steady stream of chatter with Allison about their girl time while Jackson and Scott, both holding hands with their girlfriends, chose to tune out and find a happy place. Ahead, Derek silently led the group along the path while Stiles brought up the rear, keeping unusually quiet.

His thoughts were drawn inward, chewing over the events of the last two days. The sudden attention he was receiving from Derek was strange to say the least. Ever since they had met, Derek had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with the hyperactive teen. At first, the feeling was mutual but the more times they were forced to work together, typically in some sort of dangerous situation that ended with Stiles saving Derek’s life, the more Stiles felt a growing attraction towards the werewolf.

Stiles thought it was respect or maybe friendship but closer observation forced him to admit it as a full on crush. 

It wasn’t anything like his feelings had been towards Lydia. For Stiles, Lydia Martin had always been the perfect girl; beautiful, smart, and well beyond his reach. It took him a long time to finally get over her but when he did, he’d found his ‘love’ had been more of a desire for something unobtainable. Glancing at Derek ahead of him, Stiles realized he was in the same hopeless situation all over again.

Or at least that’s what he thought before Derek started acting like he had suffered the head injury. Stiles could overlook the sudden defensiveness against Jackson. Heck, even his rescue at the pool could be labeled as common courtesy. But whatever had happened in the woods that morning was definitely not normal and not something Stiles could forget easily. Just looking back on it seemed more like something out of the twilight zone. 

“Can we stop here?” Isaac’s whine broke Stiles from his reminiscing. “I’m hungry.”

“You guys are always hungry,” Allison laughed, giving Scott a pointed look. He only shrugged in return.

“What can I say, werewolf metabolism. It’s not easy to run all these senses at once.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’m hungry too,” Stiles piped up, his stomach growling in agreement. The others laughed and Stiles blushed at the noise but it seemed to be just the convincing they needed.

“Fine, we’ll stop here,” Derek finally gave in, rolling his eyes at the pack’s enthusiastic cheer. They moved off the trail and settled for a small clearing under a few shady pine trees. The sandwiches were unpacked and passed around, Derek making sure everyone had their fair share though most of the scolding was directed at Jackson and Isaac for food hoarding. 

As Stiles enjoyed his lunch, he laid back to watch the sky through the canopy of leaves and pine needles. The sun was still out but dark clouds were gathering on the horizon, confirming the wolves’ prediction for an oncoming storm.

Who needs the weatherman?

Suddenly, Isaac appeared out of nowhere, plopping down next to Stiles and smiling excitedly. 

“Did you want any more?” he asked, holding up another sandwich and bag of chips. Stiles sat up and shook his head.

“Nah I’m good, thanks.”

Isaac’s enthusiast grin disappeared. Now he looked disappointed and a bit uncomfortable. With his curly hair and big eyes, Stiles could easily imagine him being a humanized puppy. “You sure? I mean, you didn’t get much to eat.” 

“I’m sure. You go ahead and eat it, I’m full.” 

It didn’t take much more convincing than that. Isaac’s face broke into another smile as he tore into the sandwich, barely getting out a, “Thank you,” between bites. Stiles was afraid he might choke for a second.

“Wow slow down, I doubt it’s going to run off. Besides, you could probably chase it down if it did.” That earned a chuckle from the young werewolf as he stopped long enough to actually chew. “So how much longer do we have till that storm hits?”

Isaac had the decency to swallow his mouth full of sandwich before answering. “About another hour.” 

“Cool. I think, since we’re staying in anyways, we should do a movie night or something. Any ideas?”

The werewolf pondered for a minute as he took another bite. “Hmm I don’t care. Just as long as there aren’t any chick flicks. Or documentaries.”

“Don’t worry, I brought plenty good ones,” Stiles assured him with a wicked grin. “Though most of them are scary movies. I have a few sci-fi ones, too, just in case you guys decide to be chickens.”

“Pffft whatever,” Isaac laughed, giving him a playful shove, “I think I’ll take that as a challenge, Stilinski.” 

“Isaac,” a voice suddenly interrupted from above them. The two glanced up to see Derek glowering down at them. Isaac instantly went into scolded puppy mode while Stiles just looked on in confusion. “Weren’t you supposed to give that sandwich to Stiles?”

That caught Stiles’ attention. Derek made Isaac offer him a sandwich? What the hell was that all about? He glanced back and forth between the werewolves in confusion as Derek continued to stare Isaac down. 

“He said he didn’t want it,” Isaac offered meekly, keeping his eyes glued to the grass between his sneakers. 

“Yeah I was full,” Stiles jumped in awkwardly, trying to defend his friend from getting into trouble over he really wasn’t sure what. Surely Derek wasn’t getting so worked up over a sandwich. “I told him he could have it."

Derek’s angry gaze flickered to Stiles for a split second then back to Isaac before he finally huffed. “Fine. Get your things, we’re heading back.” With one final pointed glare at Isaac, Derek stalked off to get the rest of the pack up and ready. 

“Well that was weird,” Stiles muttered, jumping to his feet and brushing the grass and pine needles off his jeans. He glanced down at Isaac, who still looked a bit shaken, and offered him a hand. “You okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine,” the wolf assured him, giving an uneasy smile as he was helped up. With a quickly nod, he shuffled away from Stiles and crossed the clearing to pack up his own bag.

Meanwhile, Stiles darted over to Scott who was, for once, not within three feet of Allison and may prove to be useful in conversation.  
“Hey, do you know why Derek’s acting like a total spaz all of a sudden?” Stiles muttered as discreetly as possible into his friend’s ear. Scott gave him a bewildered look, shifting his dark eyes nervously towards the alpha in question.

“You do know he can probably hear you, right?”

Stiles nodded curtly, purposefully not glancing towards the sourwolf. “Yeah probably. So what’s got him acting so weird? Is it like werewolf PMS or something?”

“Really, Stiles?” Scott rolled his eyes as he shouldered his backpack. “I think you’re the one acting like a spaz right now.”

Stiles groaned and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “No like he’s been doing…things…”

“Like what kind of things?” Scott asked, raising an eyebrow in expectancy.

Stiles waved his arms frantically, trying to convey the message without giving away information that could possibly end with him paying therapy bills for all parties involved. “Like… I don’t know… things...”

“Right…” 

With a defeated sigh, Stiles let his arms fall to his sides. “Never mind, just forget it.” 

Scott only shrugged and led them over to where the rest of the group was waiting on the trail. Stiles refused to glance up even as the pack started walking, not wanting to risk eye contact with Derek just in case the alpha did eaves drop on their conversation. Flushing in embarrassment, Stiles sincerely hoped Derek’s hearing wasn’t as good as they thought.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy April Fools! :D (I promise this isn't a prank.) Betcha thought I died but no! I've just been crazy busy with work and school; I took a College Algebra class and I SUUUUUCK at math so when I'm not attempting homework, I'm wishing it would just go away. Anyhooooo here's the newest chapter! I'm going to try really hard not to make the next one take so long but we'll have to see what the future holds. O.O  
> As always, hope you enjoy and leave a comment to let me know what you think! The last part of this was unbeta'd so bear with me if there are some mistakes; I'll fix them as I find them. Thanks for reading and being patient with my awkward turtle pace!  
> Love, Sheila Wolfe ^~^

The walk back was quiet and seemed to take twice as long. Derek was in a bitter mood that mirrored the darkening sky above them. The uncomfortable silence hung so heavy in the air, even Stiles was afraid to disrupt it. He, instead, chewed his bottom lip nervously and shot questioning glances at the others. No one seemed to notice. Finally, they arrived at the cottage just as the first heavy raindrops started to pelt the ground.

“Just in time!” Stiles cheered, rushing ahead of everyone to get inside and break away from the melancholy pack. “Who’s up for a movie night?”

A quiet mutter rippled through the pack, coupled with a few hesitant shrugs. Everyone’s eyes kept glancing to Derek for permission but the alpha seemed to have conveniently missed the question. So Stiles conveniently decided to make the decision himself.

“Alright let’s see what I brought!” He hurried across the living room, catching a shin against the corner of the couch, and hurtling into his room on one leg. It took him a few minutes to find the right bag and dig the movies out but he soon returned to the den with a mixed stack of DVDs balanced in his hand.

Stiles was a bit surprised to find the pack already settling down around the room. Scott and Allison had claimed the love seat while Lydia was occupying Jackson’s lap in the recliner. On the floor, Erica and Boyd were curled up in a makeshift nest of pillows and blankets.

He was momentarily excited by the pack’s enthusiasm until he noticed the only open seat; the middle cushion of the larger couch between the always excited Isaac and Derek McBroodyson. For a moment, Stiles considered asking to share the floor but he doubted Erica wanted him encroaching on her territory. With sigh, he plopped down between the two werewolves, trying his best to keep his uncoordinated limbs to himself.

“There’s some sci-fi, horror, and a few comedies,” Stiles announced, tossing the movies into the blanket strewn floor for everyone to see.

All at once, a chorus of votes assaulted his ears as the pack descended on the movies like starving wolves. Lydia and Allison both picked out a romantic comedy while Jackson and Boyd argued for something more action-packed. Erica was picked through the ‘bloodier’ titles while Isaac and Scott debated which space-based adventure would be best.

The quarrelling went on for a while until Stiles was almost bouncing in his seat. “Will someone just put something in already?” he muttered impatiently.

“Which do you want to watch?” Derek suddenly asked, breaking his impression of a bored statue. Stiles jumped at the unexpected question and was floored by it being directed at him.

“Well I’ve seen them all before. I mean, they’re my movies, I really don’t care which they…” Stiles trailed off when he noticed Derek watching him intensely. His face flushed red at the attention and he rushed to distract himself.

“Boyd, put that one in!” he shouted a little loudly, pointing to whatever movie happened to be in the wolf’s hand. The others groaned and complained but decided it was better than wasting any more time arguing.

Erica went to make some popcorn while the previews rolled. With the lights dimmed and snacks in hand, the pack hushed as the opening credits started. It was an old sci-fi flick Stiles and Scott had marathoned a hundred times; he only half paid attention, answering questions and pointing out plot holes or cheesy special effects every once in a while. Soon it ended and Erica popped in slasher film. Two hours of blood and guts later, Allison and Lydia finally convinced the group to put in their comedy.

The rain had started as a gentle pitter-patter and steadily grew to a muffled roar accompanied by the occasional flash of lightning and rumbling thunder. The outside light faded with the setting sun, cloaking the woods in a shadowy blue.

Stiles felt fatigue settle in as is grew late. He wasn’t the only one; most of the pack was fighting back yawns as the day caught up with them. Half way through the ‘chick-flick’, Erica and Boyd said good night and went upstairs, dragging part of their pillow nest with them. Not long after, Isaac shuffled off towards the guest room Derek and Stiles were sharing.

“Let me know when you’re done with the couch,” he yawned, closing the door behind him to block out the light and sound.

Stiles look advantage of the free space, propping his feet up where Isaac had been and reclining his back against Derek. He was surprised the wolf didn’t immediately push him off and enjoyed his guilty pleasure while it lasted. Derek’s skin was warm, even through his shirt, and smelled like fresh pine and spiced musk. He snuggled closer, letting his heavy eyelids droop shut as the soothing, white noise of the storm lulled him to sleep.

…

The storm was ironically what woke Stiles hours later. He stirred from his peaceful slumber when a symphony of drumming booms assaulted his ears.

Stiles propped himself up and squinted at the shadows surrounding him, vaguely aware that he was in the living room. And that his was alone. The pack had cleared out and headed to bed, leaving him to snooze on the couch. Too groggy to bother moving to the guestroom, he snuggled back down against his warm pillow and tried to reclaim sleep.

It didn’t come easy. Each creak and crack from the aged house pricked at his consciousness. He forced himself to relax, listening to the rain tap musically against the windows and roof. Soon he started drifting off again.

The couch was probably the comfiest he ever slept on. He was vaguely aware of the gentle movement of his pillow, rising and falling in time with a hushed breathing that wasn’t his own. Of the rhythmic beating of a strong but quiet drum under his ear. Of the strong pair of arms hugging tightly around his waist.

Stiles’ eyes snapped open and sleep abandoned him all together. He tensed and slowly raised his head, forcing his sight to adjust to the surrounding dark. What Stiles thought to be a very comfy sofa actually turned out to be a person underneath him. Just inches from his face, he could recognize the strong, stubbled jaw of one sleeping Derek Hale.

If Stiles wasn’t freaking out before, he was definitely freaking out now.

He was calculating his chances of escaping without waking the werewolf, they looked slim and mostly ended with him dying in some terrible way, when the room lit up in blinding white. A deafening thunder clap immediately followed, shuddering through the house and rattling the glass in the window frames.

Stiles jumped in surprise, losing balance and rolling off the couch. He flailed in a futile attempt to stop his fall but gravity was too fast. He closed his eyes and bracing for the inevitable impact.

It never came, though. Before Stiles could hit the floor, one of the strong arms hooked around his waist and hauled him back up like a fish on a line. He gave a surprised yelp as he was righted back onto his ‘bed’. Well, if Derek wasn’t awake before, he sure as hell was now.

With all the courage he could muster, Stiles forced himself to check. He was met with a menacing pair of glowing, red eyes that radiated annoyance towards the teen even in the dark. Cold fear trickled down his spine as his heart rate skyrocketed.

Yep, definitely awake.

Stiles looked away, wishing he could wake up from whatever nightmare he was stuck in. He struggled to speak for a moment, working his jaw numbly, before managing to form actual words.

“Hey, Derek,” he started with a hysterical chuckle. “Sorry I accidentally fell asleep on you and totally got all up in your personal space-”

“Stiles,” the alpha started but the teen just kept going.

“It was an accident and I swear it won’t happen again-”

“Stiles.”

He was still talking, though. Rambling uncontrollably as his heart raced away, panic building in his chest and rushing through his ears.

“So I’ll just go to the other room and pretend this never happened and if you could _not_ kill me that would be awesome-”

“Stiles!” Two hands gently grabbed each side of his face and forced him to meet Derek’s gaze. “Calm down. It’s okay.”

“It’s okay?” Stiles asked incredulously. “ _It’s okay_?!? No. No it’s no okay! You’re Mr. Super Sexy Sourwolf that slams me into walls and barely tolerates my existence! You don’t make Jackson stop being a jerk or act concerned about my most recent near death experience or stalk me in the woods and make flirty Riding Hood references! Honestly, I’m started to think this is all just a dream and I’m going to wake up any minute and go about my completely unnormal life and you’re going to keep hating me and none of this will have ever happ-”

His rant was suddenly silenced by a pair of warm lips crushing fiercely against his own.


	8. Chapter 8

Stiles froze, mind going completely blank. It took him a few seconds to process what was happening. He was being kissed. Derek was kissing him. _Derek Freaking Hale was actually kissing him!_

It only lasted a few seconds. Before Stiles could even recover his thoughts enough to react, Derek had pulled away to give him a hesitant look.

“Feel better?”

Stiles then realized he wasn’t panicking anymore. His heart had slowed to a less life threatening rate and he wasn’t rambling. Well not yet anyway. His lips were still tingling from the brief kiss and he could feel Derek’s warm hands on either side of his face. He slowly nodded, feeling his cheeks turn red under the alpha’s gaze.

The werewolf raised an eyebrow at the blush. “Still think you’re dreaming?”

“Yeah pretty much. Usually I would have woken up by now,” Stiles muttered more to himself than to Derek. His mind was spinning, trying to comprehend the situation. This was all too good to be true. He had to be dreaming and would probably wake up any minute with an awkward boner he’d have to hide from a house full of werewolves. Not easy but he’d done it before during some of the more embarrassing pack meetings.

Oh well. Dream or not, Stiles planned to take advantage before it ended.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he tried for a casual suggestion. “Maybe we should try again? You know what they say, ‘second time’s the charm’ and all-”

He barely finished when he was being pulled forward for another kiss. This one he was prepared for and more than eager to participate. Maybe a little too eager. Stiles surged forward to meet Derek halfway and ended up clashing teeth and bumping noses in his haste.

So he was an awkward virgin with little to no experience, so sue him.

Derek only chuckled and tilted his face, slotting their mouths together with ease.  Smooth, dry lips moved against each other and Stiles melted into the rhythm. Okay so not dreaming. More like a dream come true. The hands grasping his face brushed along his jaw, dancing down the column of his throat, tracing down his back and past his slim hips. Stiles wasn’t sure what Derek was doing until the hands grabbed under his knees. In one smooth motion, Derek had sat up, pulling Stiles up into his lap with the younger boy straddling his waist.

Stiles broke the kiss with a gasp, blindly running his hands along Derek’s chest until his fingers hooked the hem.

“Shirt. Off. Now,” he panted, tugging at the offending fabric. He swore the werewolf’s eyes flashed red but was distracted when the shirt was yanked off, leaving an expansion of smooth, muscular chest dusted with dark hair for Stiles to enjoy.

“If this is a dream, I really don’t want to wake up,” Stiles breathed, turning pink when Derek chuckled.

“You know it’s ‘third’ right?” the alpha asked, making the human draw a blank.

“Third? Like third base or something?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “No you said ‘Second time’s the charm’ but it’s actually third.”

The brunet’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Third? Well if you insist–” the words were barely out of his mouth when Derek attacked again, yanking Stiles forward to crush their mouths back together.

Where the first kiss was shocking and the second down right embarrassing, Stiles was ready to make the third count.

Stiles sighed into the kiss and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of Derek under his hands. His fingers skimmed over the muscles of his chest and abs, smiling against the older man’s lips each time he groaned or shivered. Then the hand at his knee moved to pinch his ass. Stiles gasped and a hot tongue thrust into his mouth, deepening the kiss and making him to moan. Their tongues danced around each other while Derek’s free hand slipped under Stiles shirt.

When they reluctantly broke apart to breathe, panting with red lips and dark eyes, Stiles almost whined but a ripping sound kept him focused. Derek’s claws had torn the front of his shirt, tearing away the shredded remains of it until he was left in just his sweatpants.

Then the werewolf was kissing him again, trailing from the corner of his mouth to his jaw and down to Stiles’ neck. His nerves were on fire, skin heightened to every touch, every brush of skin and warm puff of breath. Every hot taste of Derek’s tongue or gentle skim of his sharp teeth had Stiles shivering and squirming, fingers twisting themselves in soft, ebony hair.

“I liked that shirt,” Stiles panted out but couldn’t bring himself to be angry.

Warm breath tickled his throat in a chuckle. “It was in the way. I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Good. I hope you plan on buying lots more because that was pretty fucking hot.”

I swore he heard Derek growl while he rub his cheek against Stiles’ neck. His stubble left a pleasant sting and Stiles was sure he would have to come up with an excuse for it tomorrow but couldn’t care less at the moment. Heat was coursing through him, pooling low in his belly.

“So how long has this been on the table?” Stiles gasped as large hands framed his narrow hips. “I mean, werewolves can’t get roofied, right? Unless it’s wolfsbane but that would have some sideaff–” he choked off in a whine when Derek mouthed a sensitive spot behind his ear.

“You have idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Derek whispered, the deep, rough voice burning against Stiles’ skin.

“Seriously?”

The alpha pulled back to stare at him, dark eyebrows knitted and kiss-bruised mouth pulled into a frown. I would almost be cute without the glowing red ringed around blown pupils.

“You don’t believe me?”

Stiles flushed, eyes glancing everywhere but down at the hot werewolf he was currently straddling. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s pretended to like me for a prank,” he shrugged. “I always thought you hated me. This was pretty much the last thing I would expect from you.”

Derek’s frown deepened to epic levels of broodiness. “So I was wrong?”

The question caught Stiles off guard. “Wha?” he gawked, brain still sluggish after the sudden and abruptly interrupted make-out session.

“I thought the feeling was mutual.” Derek’s sighed like a deflated balloon. “I know I can’t make up for the past but I’m sorry for my behavior towards–”

“Nope nope nope nope!” Stiles cut in, flailing his arms enough to catch Derek’s attention. He pressed his hands over Derek’s mouth, ignoring the glare shot at him through the dark. “Look I don’t care about whatever happened in the past. Things are different now. We’ve dealt with some weird shit together this past year and we’ll probably deal with some weird shit as soon as we get back. Besides, I’ve kind of had a huge crush on you for I don’t even know how long.”

Derek stared at him for a moment, shocked into silence, before he suddenly started laughing. Nothing loud or obnoxious, just a quiet chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest. It was so un-Derek-ish that Stiles started contemplating his dream theory again.

“Guess this explains why you’ve been acting weird since we got here?” Stiles asked, hiding his smirk when Derek actually blushed.

“Wolf courting doesn’t make a lot of sense to humans, huh?”

Stiles snorted. “It makes more sense when you find out the werewolf doesn’t want to rip your throat out with his teeth.” He weaved his fingers back through Derek’s hair. “But I’m way okay with this method instead.”

He was the one to initiate the kiss this time, pressing his lips to Derek’s still frozen ones until the werewolf shook off his confusion and jumped to take part. A hot tongue licked at the seams of Stiles mouth, diving in to explore when it fell open. Stiles groaned as his dwindling arousal rekindled.

Derek broke away, hugging Stiles close so their chests were pressed together and dropping his head where neck became shoulder. Stiles could only squirm and whine as open mouth kisses were pressed to his throat. Then Derek latched onto his shoulder and sucked.

“Every–Ah!” Stiles yelped as sharp teeth brushed the sensitive skin as Derek targeted his neck for a second hickey. “Everyone’s going to see,” Stiles finally rushed out, fingers in Derek’s hair holding him closer.

“Let them,” Derek growled, giving a final kiss to his handy work before trailing back up to Stiles’ lips. “I’m pretty sure they all know, anyways.”

Stiles broke the kiss to roll his eyes. “Scott doesn’t know.”

“That’s because he’s not very observant.”

Stiles and Derek both jumped, turning towards the third voice. Isaac was leaning against the guest doorway, hair mussed and eyes still heavy from sleep.

“Though, to be fair, I don’t think Scott would notice a house on fire if Allison was next to him.”

Stiles’ brain was having trouble restarting, part of him wanting to run from the room and the other half wanting to chase Isaac out to continue where he and Derek had left off. Speaking of, the werewolf was still below him, completely still like a statue. Stiles assumed he was either feigning sleep or hoping he could just disappear into the couch below him.

Silence lapsed through the room as Stiles finally managed to get his mind and mouth in sync again. “So…”

“Don’t worry,” Isaac said with a shrug. “I’m not going to tell anyone. Though most of them put two and two together a long time ago. Erica’s going to be mad she lost the bet, though.”

“What bet? You know what, never mind I don’t want to know.” Stiles just shook his head, wishing Derek would say something instead of perfecting the art of ‘hide and seek’ in plain sight.

Isaac yawned, fangs flashing as he turned back to the guest room. “I was going to ask if you wanted your beds back but you look comfortable there. Good night.” And as the door swung close, they were alone again.

“Well that went well,” Stiles blurted out. Derek was mobile again, hands coming up to scrub over his face in irritation. He let out a weary sigh before dropping his hands to stare at the ceiling.

“I messed up everything. Again.”

“Hey whoa hold on.” Stiles shifted to lean over Derek, ignoring the tightness in his pants, to look him in the eye. “I don’t know what you think you messed up but I’m going to go ahead and say that you’re wrong and just being a Debby-Downer.”

“This wasn’t the plan.”

Stiles snorted. “Since when does anything we do go to plan? My plan was to graduate high school and get the girl of my dreams not get involved in werewolves and lizard monsters and your creepy demon uncle.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh my god just stoooop!” Stiles tried to shake Derek’s shoulders but couldn’t budge the bulky muscles. “Not everything is your fault so just stop. I don’t blame you, I know Scott doesn’t, and honestly, I don’t mind. The nearly dying every week is kind of a downside but being part of the pack and finding out that you actually tolerate my existence makes it worthwhile.”

Derek seemed to stare anywhere at him and for once, Stiles kept quiet. Finally, the werewolf spoke. “I just mean…every relationship I’ve had ends up bad and I didn’t even know if you liked me that way. I wanted to court you first. Properly. See where it goes, take it slow so I can’t mess it up.” He finished with a frown.

“First off,” Stiles started, brushing some of the hair off Derek’s forehead. “That’s probably the most I’ve ever heard you talk. Second; I already like you, I have for a while so courting a success.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “That’s not all there is to courting.”

“Third!” Stiles interrupted with a grin, “I know some horrible things happened in the past but I’m here now and I will do whatever I can to make sure we don’t mess this up; whatever this is. I will do everything in my power to make you the happiest werewolf on the planet.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Derek muttered but the words were affectionate and playful. “But right now, you could make me happy by going back to sleep. It’s nearly dawn.”

“Aw but I was going to ask you more about the courting thing,” Stiles pouted. “And maybe see if we could make out some more. That would make me happy.”

Derek chuckled and tugged Stiles down to tuck him against his chest. He grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over them, both his arms still wrapped securely around Stiles’ waist. 

“There’s always tomorrow. First, sleep.”

Stiles snuggled against the warmth and tried not to yawn. With the excitement from earlier diminished, exhausting immediately settled into his bones and drained his energy. “Fine. But you better not ignore me or pull a Houdini act on me.”

Even without looking, Stiles could tell Derek was rolling his eyes. “Goodnight, Stiles.”

He murmured something back but sleep claimed him before the words were spoken.


End file.
